Forty Days of Musa Dagh (77 page)

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "Nationalism fills up the burning void which Allah leaves
in the hearts of men when they drive Him out of them. And yet! Men cannot
drive Him forth against His will."

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS (sits with his legs crossed under him, as the
personification of Europe accused; he does not however forget his object;
therefore, he has listened amiably to the curses of the imposing Türbedar
from Brussa; they hurt him far less than his squatting legs): "None of
what you have said to me is new. I myself have often said much the same to
my fellow countrymen. I am a Christian -- in fact a Christian priest --
and in spite of this I gladly admit to you that many of the Christians
whom I meet are no more than lukewarm, indifferent lip servers . . ."

 

 

THE TüRBEDAR (still obstinately righteous, in spite of Sheikh Achmed's
silent reproof): "So you see that not we Turks but your Christians are
the real guilty."

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS: "My religion commands me to see all guilt as the
unavoidable heritage of Adam. Men and whole peoples cast this human
guilt at one another, like a ball. It is impossible to assign its limits
in time, or trace it back to any one event. Where should we begin, and
where leave off? I am not here to speak even a word of reproach against
the Turkish people. It would be a very great mistake. I am here to beg
reconciliation."

 

 

THE TüRBEDAR: "You come, asking to he reconciled, after having aroused
the malice."

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS: "I am no chauvinist. Every human being, whether he lives
it or not, belongs to a national community, and remains a part of it.
That is an obvious fact of nature. As a Christian, I believe that our
Father in heaven created these differences between us, to teach us love.
Since no love is possible without diversity and tension. I too, by nature,
am very different from the Armenians. And yet I have learned to love
and understand them."

 

 

THE TüRBEDAR: "Have you ever cared to reflect how much the Armenians love
and understand us? It was they who, like an electric wire, conducted
your devil's restlessness into the midst of our peace. And do you take
them for innocent lambs? I tell you that, whenever they get a chance,
they coldly slaughter any Turk who happens to be at their mercy. Perhaps
you may not be aware that even your Christian priests are delighted to
do their share in that kind of murder."

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS (it is the first time that he has had to check himself
from answering sharply): "If you say so, Effendi, I can only believe
that such crimes have been committed, here and there. But don't forget
what your hojas, mullahs and ulemas have done to stir up your people.
And besides, you are the strong, the Armenians powerless."

 

 

THE TüRBEDAR (who, besides being learned, is skilled in polemic;
he knows the art of retreating at once from the realms of the dangerously
particular, into the fortified region of generalities): "You have strewn
calumnies through the whole world against our religion. The most malicious
is that of its intolerance. Do you really suppose that, if we had been so
intolerant, there would be one Christian left alive in the empire governed
for centuries by the Caliph? What did the great Sultan who conquered Istanbul
do in the first year of his reign? Did he banish Christians from his
territory? Did he? No, he set up the Greek and Armenian patriarchates,
investing them with power, splendor, freedom. But what did you Christians
do in Spain? You drove the Moslems, who had made their homes there, into
the sea, by thousands, and burned them alive. Do we send you missionaries,
as you us? You only send out the cross before you so that the Baghdad
railway and the oil trusts may pay better dividends."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "The sun is arrogant and aggressive, the moon mild and
full of peace. The Türbedar speaks harsh words, but not to you, who
are our guest. You must understand that our people also are embittered
at the misrepresentation of our religion. Do you know which word most
frequently beautifies the Koran, after the name of God? The word:
Peace! And do you know how it stands in the tenth sura: 'Once men were
a single brotherhood. Then division came between them. But had God not
sent forth His commandment, their division would have called down judgment
upon them.' But we too strive, just as the Christians do, after a kingdom
of unity and love. We too do not hate our enemies. How is it possible
to hate if the heart has opened itself to God? To bring peace is one
of the chief duties of our brotherhood Listen; even this Türbedar, who
speaks so harshly, is one of our most zealous peace-makers. Long before
your name became known to us, he was working on behalf of the exiles. And
not only he! We have our peacemakers even among soldiers." (He beckons to
the infantry captain who, presumably as the youngest and least initiated
brother of the order, is sitting on the mat farthest away from him.)

 

 

THE CAPTAIN (comes shyly to take. his place next the old sheikh;
he has big, gentle eyes and a sensitive face; only his carefully trained
moustache helps him to the severity of an officer).

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "You visited the Armenian concentration camps in the east,
on our behalf?"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN (turns to Johannes Lepsius): "I am staff captain in one of
the regiments attached to the headquarters of your great countryman,
Marshal Goltz Pasha. The pasha's heart is also full of grief and pity
for his Christian co-religionists. But he can do very little to help
them against the will of the Minister of War. I reported to him, and
was given leave for my task

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "And which places did you visit on your journey?"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN: "Most of the concentration camps for exiles are on the banks
of the Euphrates, between Deir ez-Zor and Meskene. I stayed several days
in each of the largest."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "And will you tell us what you saw there?"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN (an agonized glance at Lepsius): "I would much prefer not
to tell you in front of this stranger."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "The stranger must learn to see that the infamy is that
of our own enemies. Speak!"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN (stares at the floor, seeking for words; he is unable to
describe the indescribable; his negative, hesitant words convey none
of the stench of a reality at which he still shudders with disgust):
"Battlefields are horrible. . . . But the worst battlefield is nothing
compared to Deir ez-Zor. . . . Nobody could ever imagine it."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "And what was worst?"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN: "They're no longer human. . . . Ghosts . . . But not the
ghosts of human beings . . . the ghosts of apes. It takes them a long
time to die, because they chew grass, and can sometimes get hold of
a piece of bread. . . . But the worst thing is that they're all too
weak to bury their tens of thousands of corpses. . . . Deir ez-Zor is
a horrible cloaca of death. . . ."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH (after a long pause): "And how can they be helped?"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN: "Helped? The best anyone could do for them would be to kill
them all off in one day. . . . I've sent a letter to all our brethren.
. . . We've managed to find homes for over a thousand of the orphans in
Turkish or Arab families. . . . But that's scarcely anything."

 

 

THE TüRBEDAR: "And what will the consequence be, if we take in these
children, and care for them lovingly in our houses? The Europeans will
only insist that we stole them, to sully and mishandle."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "That is true, but beside the point." (To the Captain):
"Did these Armenians see in you, a Turk, only an enemy, or could you
manage to gain their confidence?"

 

 

THE CAPTAIN: "Their dehumanized misery is so great that they have ceased
to be able to distinguish between friend and enemy. . . . Whenever I came
into a camp, they came round me in swarms. . . . Usually there were only
women and old men, all half naked. . . . They roared with hunger. . . .
The women scraped up my horse's dung to pick out the undigested oat grains.
. . . Then later they almost tore me to bits with their prayers. . . .
I'm loaded up with petitions, and messages, which I can't deliver. . . .
Here, for instance, this letter . . ."

 

 

(He finds a filthy slip in his pocket and shows it to Johannes Lepsius.)

 

 

"This was written by one of your Christian priests, of your persuasion.
He was squatting beside his wife's unburied corpse . . . she'd lain there
three days. . . . A very small, thin man, there was scarcely anything
left of him. His name was Harutiun Nokhudian, his home was somewhere on
the Syrian coast. Most of the people in his neighborhood took refuge
on the top of a mountain. I promised to have the letter delivered to
them. But how?"

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS (petrified by the horror of all this, has long since
ceased to feel his cramped legs under him; on the letter which he
takes from the captain he can read only the inscription, written in
big Armenian letters, "To the priest of Yoghonoluk, Ter Haigasun"):
"So even this request will have to go unfulfilled, like all the others."

 

 

AGHA RIFAAT BEREKET (his amber rosary has vanished into his sleeves; this
frail old gentleman from Antakiya bows several times in little, swaying
movements to the sheikh): "No, this request shall be granted. . . . I myself
will take Nokhudian's letter to his friends. In the next few days I shall be
on the Syrian coast."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH (turns with a little smile to Lepsius):
"What an instance of God's power! Two brothers, strangers to one another,
meet here, in this great city, so that the prayer of a wretched man may
be granted. . . . But now you probably know us better. This is my friend,
the Agha from Antakiya. . . . He's not in the prime of life, as you are;
he has seventy years on his shoulders. And yet, for months, he has worked
and travelled on behalf of the ermeni millet -- good Turk as he is. Why,
he's even obtained audiences with the Sultan and the Sheikh ül Islam on
their behalf."

 

 

AGHA RIFAAT BEREKET: "He who guides my heart knows its purposes. But
unluckily the others are very strong, and we very weak."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "We are weak because these lackeys of Europe have stolen
religion from our people. It is as the Türbedar said it, though in harsh
words. Now you know the truth. But the weak are not afraid. I cannot tell
whether your efforts for the Armenians are dangerous to you. But they can
be very dangerous indeed both to the Agha and the captain. If a traitor
or a government spy denounces them, they may disappear into jail forever."

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS (bends over Sheikh Achmed's hand, but the kiss remains
uncompleted, since the pastor finds that he cannot conquer his shame
and reserve): "I bless this hour, and I bless your brother Nezimi,
who brought me here. I had given up hope. But now I can hope again,
that, in spite of all convoys and concentration camps, some part of the
Armenian nation may still be saved, with your help."

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH: "That rests with God alone. . . . You must arrange a
meeting with the Agha."

 

 

JOHANNES LEPSIUS: "Is there any chance of saving these men on Musa Dagh?"

 

 

THE TüRBEDAR (angry again, this sympathy with rebels is too much for his
Osmanic heart): "The Prophet says: 'He who goes to the judge to plead
for a traitor is hünself a traitor. Since, wittingly or unwittingly,
he stirs up disorders.'"

 

 

THE OLD SHEIKH (for the first time he has lost his dry shrewdness
of manner; his eyes look a long way out, his words are indecipherably
ambiguous): "Perhaps those who are lost are already in safety, and those
in safety already lost."

 

 

Then the sheikh's servant and the thick-set porter with the kind eyes
brought coffee and lokum, Turkish sweetmeats. Sheikh Achmed with his own
hands presented the coffee cup to his guest. Johannes Lepsius would have
liked, before saying good-bye, to turn back their conversation to the
Armenians. But he could not succeed. The old sheikh impassively refused
all further discussion. But the Agha Rifaat Bereket promised the pastor
to visit him that same night in his hotel. In three days he would have
to leave Istanbul.

 

 

 

 

At the Seraskeriat, Dr. Nezimi Bey took leave of Lepsius. They had walked
the whole long way almost in silence. The Turk imagined that what he had
just seen so impressed the pastor that his thoughts were too eagerly
occupied to enable him to say a word. That was true, but in a different
sense. A man set on one object has his head full to bursting of new
ideas. The pastor was not so much thinking of this mysterious new world in
which he had just been spending a few hours. He was thinking of the breach
into the interior, which such miraculous hazard had suddenly opened.
He kept squeezing Nezimi's hand, to express his thanks, without saying a
word. And such words as Nezimi said passed almost unheeded. The Turk was
advising him to pay great attention, in the next few days, to all the
minor incidents of his life. Any man honored by Sheikh Achmed with "The
test of the heart" would be sure to encounter many incidents which, if
seen in their true light, would be full of meaning. Alone, outside the
Seraskeriat, Lepsius stared up at the windows of Enver's citadel. They
glittered in the late afternoon sunlight. He rushed for a cab. "To the
Armenian patriarchate!" Now all the spies in the world meant nothing
to him. He burst in on the cadaverous patriarch. Monsignor Saven's
thought was miraculously on its way to being realized. Old-Turkish
circles were helping the Armenians, though nobody had known it so far.
The best among the Turks were enflamed with inextinguishable hate against
their atheistic leaders. This fire must be used for their special
purposes. . . . Monsignor Saven put his fingers to his lips imploringly.
Not so loud -- for Christ's sake! The pastor's quick mind was organizing
a vast new scheme of assistance. The patriarchate was to get into secret
touch with the great orders of dervishes, and so lay the foundations
of a manifold and extensive work of assistance, which should grow
till it became a definite rescue work. The religious strata among the
Turks must be strengthened in their fight by a new, strong impulse,
and powerful opposition to Enver and Talaat developed in the people
itself. Monsignor Saven was far less optimistic than Dr. Lepsius. None
of all this was unknown to him, he whispered, in a scarcely audible
voice. Not all orders of dervishes were of this kind. The greatest, most
influential, for instance, the Mevlevi and Rufai, were blind haters of
the Armenians. Though they detested Enver, Talaat, and the other members
of the Committee, they had nothing against the extermination. Lepsius
refused to let his confidence be shaken. They must grasp any hands held
out to them. He suggested that the patriarch himself should go in secret
to see Sheikh Achmed. Nezimi Bey would arrange a meeting. But Monsignor
Saven was so horrified at this daring suggestion that he seemed relieved
when the temperamental pastor left his room.